Sketches
by Devon Shea
Summary: A short look into the past of Dudley's wife, related to my story Dudley's Tale, with a bit of a spoiler for it.


June 2005

The pages in the old sketchbook were covered in pictures from happier times. She flipped through them, sneering at the naïve and innocent schoolgirl drawings.

"I really just thought you should have them. Your parents would have wanted that for you, at least." Her parents' best friend had brought the box of her sketchbooks over and was blathering at her. Again. He always did that. Couldn't he just see that she was content with her life the way it was. "They wanted more for you than this, Annie. You have a real gift. You should be using it, not wasting your life on a dead-end job and alcohol."

She looked up at the man her parents had entrusted with their estate. "Are we done?"

He sighed. "We're done. Maybe I should take these with me until you're ready."

"Whatever." She turned away from him as he gathered up the sketchbooks and put them back in the box. She said nothing to him, not even good-bye, as he left. She didn't tell him he'd forgotten the lone sketchbook she grasped with white fingers and knuckles on her lap, nearly hidden by her jumper.

She was cold. She was always cold. She needed to warm up. She put the sketchbook on the table in her dingy little flat, one room with a pull-out couch and a tiny little kitchenette and an almost literal closet for a wc. She pulled the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and poured a measure in a glass.

"A real gift, my ass." She drank the whiskey down, savoring the nice burn as it scorched her throat. "A real gift for screwing up is more like it." She glanced at the sketchbook he had forgotten and poured another drink. After she'd downed that one she looked around the flat and realized she wanted to just go out. Get away from it all for a night. She knew just the club to go to.

#####

AURA was the name of the newest club to gain major popularity. Five years ago it had just been a fading relic but the new owners had invested heavily in revamping it. It had been attracting some big names for the last few months.

As was pretty much universal a pretty girl could jump the line and that's what Annie was hoping for tonight. She'd dressed in her slinkiest outfit. The silver one that showed off both her light blonde hair and her trim figure. She had put on just enough make-up to enhance but not look like she'd tried on an entire boutique's stock. She quickly pushed aside the memory of her mother showing her how to do her make-up as a girl. She was there for one purpose. To forget.

She smiled winningly at the bouncer at the door as she approached him. "Hi," she said, ignoring the people waiting behind the rope. "May I go in?"

The bouncer, a beefy guy with his hair shaved off and a tattoo of a spider crawling up his neck, looked her over and just grunted as he opened the door behind him. Both of them ignored the protests of the people behind the line as she thanked him softly and entered the club. She had been able to hear the music from the street near the club as she approached it, but when he opened the door she was almost blown away by the pulsing rhythms. She took a deep breath, savoring the comingled scents of perfumes, colognes and sweat. If she had been sensitive to anything she would have immediately gotten a migraine. Instead, she relished the chance to think about absolutely nothing for a little while.

Her first stop was the bar, where she ordered a drink. She moved away from the bar and looked around for a dance partner or two. She saw a likely candidate watching the dance floor, a black-haired man dressed in his finest, his dark skin seemed like it absorbed all the lights that flickered and played over the crowd. She was moving toward him when he turned and smiled at the brown-haired, skinny white man that touched his hand. They grinned at each other and said something she was too far away to hear and moved toward the dance floor. She watched them move together for a few moments, just appreciating the sheer beauty of them. She found herself sketching them in her mind and shook her head and turned from the sight.

She finished her drink and placed the empty glass on one of the tables as she looked again for a dance partner. There, on the fringes of the floor, was a man just staring at the massed dancers, glass in hand. He looked almost afraid to join in. She smiled and sidled up to him. "Want to dance?" She had to put her mouth almost on his ear to be heard.

His blue eyes met hers and rounded as he looked her up and down quickly. "Me?" He was handsome in a sort of geeky way, with dark hair and a slight air of confusion. "Yes, you." She ran her finger down his arm before she grabbed the empty glass from his hand and put it on the railing in front of him. "Let's dance."

"I've never danced like this before." He gestured toward the floor filled with bodies gyrating wildly to the beat as he leaned into her so she could hear him over the music.

She grinned. "It's easy. You just let yourself listen to the beat and let it take you somewhere far away." She pulled him onto the floor with her and through the crowd until they found a space to dance. She could tell he was about to bolt so she kept his hand in hers as she started to move. It took a moment but he smiled and started to copy her moves. After a minute or so he had gotten into it and was starting to have fun. After five minutes they were really enjoying themselves. The music was getting in their minds as they just danced and let themselves go.

#####

She woke up the next morning with her head aching. She put her hand out to shut off the alarm that was buzz-sawing through her brain when she heard a distinctly masculine groan. Surprised, she opened her eyes and shut them again when the light of the sun hit them. The sunlight never reached her flat windows. It was always blocked out by the other side of the block. So, where was she and who the hell was groaning other than her?

She opened her eyes again, slowly and looked to her right. There was a dark head on the pillow next to her. The man's arm was reaching for the alarm clock as he groaned. He ended up just batting the thing onto the floor and pulled the pillow over his head to block out the sound of the alarm.

She started to slide out of the bed quietly when she realized she hadn't a stitch of clothing on. She was sore in certain areas and definitely needed a shower. She tried to remember anything from last night, but she ran into a blank spot around the fourth drink that she and her dance partner had gone for on their breaks from dancing.

She hesitated, trying to decide whether or not she should let him know she was leaving when she realized she'd never even asked his name the entire time they were dancing and drinking. Her heart stopped. Was this what she had come to? She almost sobbed but held it back as she slid out of the bed, gathered her clothes and crept out of his room and into the washroom.

She wetted a washcloth and cleaned herself off as much as was possible that way. She didn't even want to look in the mirror at herself, but she knew she had to make sure she'd gotten all of her make-up off and looked decent enough to take the tube home from wherever she was. She slipped out of the flat, not leaving a note for him. She didn't even know how to address it, so what could she possibly write?

Thankfully, she had kept her purse the entire night, so she had her pass. She ducked into the nearest station and studied the map. She had ended up on the other side of London. How the hell had they managed to do that as staggeringly drunk as they must have been? She shook her head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting home and taking a long, hot shower.

#####

She looked at the haggard face in the mirror and wondered what the hell was wrong with her. She was so tired. She could hardly get to work. Her boss had even told her she looked like sick. Well, actually he'd told her she looked like shit and needed to put more make-up on so she didn't scare away the customers. Her boss was a bit of a jerk, but he paid decent money for waitressing, which was more than she could say for a lot of other bar or restaurant jobs.

She put her make-up on carefully to hide her wan complexion. Even starting out for work earlier, she was almost late. She just hoped she could get through her entire shift tonight. She greeted the other waitress coming on at the same time, "Hey, Sheila."

"Hey, Annie." Sheila was an older woman, she was doing this job now that her kids were older so she could make a little extra money while her husband stayed at home with them at night. She smiled at Annie and turned away, then turned back. "Annie, you alright, dear?"

Annie smiled back at her. "Just tired. I think I caught a weird bug that's kicking my arse, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. Ryan has one right now. He's being miserable." Sheila laughed. "Like all men when they're sick, right?"

Annie laughed at the familiar complaint and just nodded. "Hope he feels better soon."

"Thanks, and I hope you do, too." She glanced out the door, making sure their boss didn't hear her. "Let me know if you need a break and I'll try to cover your tables for a few minutes."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, but I should be fine. I'll let you know, though, if I do."

#####

Annie had been sick with the bug for almost two weeks. It was getting so bad that she could hardly keep her eyes open. She pulled herself through work but when she got home she just slept. She hadn't gone out or done anything fun in almost a week. She sat on her couch while she flipped through the stations on the television. There was a glass of really cheap wine on the table in front of her but she could barely pull the strength to pick it up and drink.

The doorbell rang while she just stared at the television, not even paying attention to the program that was on. She sighed, wondering if it was worth the effort to get up and answer the door. She called out, "Coming!" as she pulled her body up by the armrest. She had to steady herself from the dizzy spell she had upon standing. She figured, what the hell, and grabbed the glass and downed the bit that was left before she walked over to the door.

She looked through the peephole and was taken aback. It was Sheila, of all people. She unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Sheila?"

Sheila smiled nervously. "Hi, Annie. I asked Walter what your address was last night before we left."

"Okay. Why didn't you just ask me?"

"Um. Well." She looked around. "May I come in?"

Annie stepped back from the door, realizing she was still standing in front of it, blocking the older woman from entering. "Sure. Um, excuse the mess. Maid's day off." The flat wasn't horrible, but it wasn't as tidy as she usually kept it, either. She'd just been too tired to clean a lot, lately.

Sheila came in, a large bag in her hand. "Oh, it's cozy."

"Nice word for small, right?" Annie laughed. "It's affordable on what Walter pays me and I don't have to share it with someone I barely know."

Sheila smiled and nodded. "I understand." She stood for a moment, unsure of how to approach her young friend.

Annie took pity on her and waved to the couch, rushing over to pull the blanket she'd been wrapping herself in off and fold it up. Sheila put the bag next to her on the floor and ahemmed. "I really didn't want to intrude, Annie, but I didn't want to ask you this at work, either." She stopped, too nervous to continue.

Annie shook her head and sat down on the other end of the couch. "Just spit it out, Sheila. Something made you track me down."

Sheila nodded. "Yes. It's just that, well, you remind me of me with my Jonny."

"Your Jonny?"

"Tired all the time. Oh, that was the worst. After the first month was over, everything was just peachy, but that first month was a killer. It almost made me not want to carry another."

Annie was shaking her head by now. "What the hell are you talking about, Sheila?"

Sheila smiled. "I thought this might be the case." She reached into the bag on the floor and pulled out a little box. She handed it to Annie, who looked at it, gobsmacked.

"You must be joking. I'm not pregnant!"

Sheila just sat back and waited for a moment while Annie thought furiously. She had been sick for two weeks. She hadn't had her monthly yet but it was only a week overdue. That wasn't completely unusual for her since she had never been particularly regular. But there hadn't been…

"Oh, my God. The night at the club." Annie's hand squeezed the box with the test in it. "I don't remember everything that happened, Sheila. He may not have used-" Annie looked at Sheila. "How can I be pregnant?"

Sheila put her hand over Annie's. "You're not sure if you are or aren't, so why not use that right now to find out?" she replied gently.

Annie stood up, all functions on automatic and went into the bathroom. She opened the box and followed the instructions. Once she was done she left the stick on the sink to do its magic and went out to join Sheila, whom she had just left without a word in her living room/bedroom.

Sheila had been busy. She had tidied up the room a bit, getting rid of the takeaway containers from the last two nights Annie had just left after she'd eaten. She had also found her stash of tea and was brewing them a cuppa. "I figured you might need the fortification if what I suspect is true."

"To hell with the tea, give me the whiskey."

Sheila's eyebrows lifted. "Annie, if you are pregnant, the drink's out."

"I don't think so."

"If you're a danger to the baby, they'll take him or her away from you."

Annie's hands crept over her abdomen. The idea of a baby was new and frightening and not even something she was sure she could go through with. "I'm too young to have a baby. I don't want to have one."

Sheila's lips tightened. "That is your choice, of course, but no matter what, if you are pregnant and you have that baby, you need to lay off the drink or he or she could be born damaged."

"That's just bullshit. Made up to scare women into being good little girls," Annie replied hotly.

The timer on Annie's phone went off before Sheila could answer her. They looked at each other, Annie paling before she walked back into the toilet and looked at the little stick on the basin. It had a plus sign. Annie had always hated math. Now it was mocking her.

Sheila looked over her shoulder and placed her hand on it. Annie turned and cried in her arms.

#####

The cup of tea was warm in Annie's hands. So much warmer than the whiskey or the wine she usually used to heat her chilled bones. Sheila had guided her to the couch while she cried and just held her. When the tears had subsided into slight whimpers she'd gotten up and poured the tea for them. She had also brought some home-made chicken soup with her and placed the containers in Annie's nearly empty refrigerator. Annie watched her friend bustle around the kitchenette while she sniffed.

"Do I keep it, Sheila?" she asked the woman. "How can I be a mother? I can't even take care of myself?"

Sheila's shoulders had tightened when Annie asked her first question. She turned back and brought the bowl of soup she'd heated up out to the couch. "I can't make that decision for you, Annie." She put the soup on the table. "Eat that. I don't think you've been eating enough for one person, let alone two."

Annie smiled a little. Sheila was always trying to take care of the other waitresses. "What about the father, Annie?"

Annie shook her head. "It was a bad night, Sheila. I met him at that club, AURA. I don't know his name. He lives somewhere in Shepherd's Bush, but I don't remember where. I just slipped out, got the tube and came home."

"Shepherd's Bush? How the hell did you two even get there if you were that drunk?"

Annie laughed mirthlessly. "I have no clue. I do remember wondering the same thing, but not much else. I just came home, showered, slept off the hangover and tried to forget about him."

Sheila shook her head, "Well, he's out of the picture, then. It's your decision, Annie. You need to think about it hard. If you carry the baby to term, even if you give it up for adoption, that shit," she pointed at the wine bottle on the counter, "will have to go. If you carry the baby and keep it, that shit will have to go. The only way you can keep your alcohol is if you abort the pregnancy. So think about it. The baby or the bottle."

Sheila got up and gathered her purse while Annie sat there, silently contemplating her bowl of chicken soup. She ran her hand over Annie's hair gently. "It'll be alright, luv. Just think it over carefully before you make a decision."

She almost made it to the door when Annie asked, "What do _you_ think I should do, Sheila?"

Sheila paused. "I think my life would be different if I had kept my first baby, Annie. I don't know if it would have been better or worse. But it would have been different. But that's me and I don't regret ending the first one. I was too young at sixteen. Ryan and I were better becoming parents when we did. But it was a hard way to learn a lesson for both of us." She turned to Annie. "You are young, yes, but not too young. You can be strong, I think. Will the baby make you stronger? Maybe. Maybe not. I think it's up to you."

Annie didn't answer as Sheila left behind more than just home-made chicken soup and a little plastic stick that mocked Annie with a simple mathematical symbol.

_**AN:** For those of you reading Dudley's Tale, this might clear up some things about Annie. If not, well, welcome to my little corner of the HP world. Annie is Dudley's wife, obviously an original character. She has a bit of a problem with alcohol. I am not an alcoholic so if my portrayal of one is off, please let me know so I can fix things. I might add more one-shots about Annie as the stories go along._

_Oh, just so you know, there is an actual HP character in the story somewhere. This character might show up later in Dudley's life. More likely, his daughter's though, in an ancillary way._


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